


Year of the Pig

by dontrollthedice



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Minecraft-verse, Mutual Pining, Parenthood, Time Skips, parenting through the years, somewhere in s7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontrollthedice/pseuds/dontrollthedice
Summary: There’s pink in the leaves. As far as he knows, no tree has pink in it. Has somebody pulled a prank on him?Grian frowns as he carefully shears away the leaf blocks blocking his view. His frown only deepens when he hears a small, feeble cry. What is that? Who is that?He shears away the last leaf block and finds a pig. But it’s not a pig, it’s a kid. But it’s not a kid, it’s a pig…?---Grian's life takes a turn when a child enters the server.
Relationships: Everyone & Everyone, Oliver Brotherhood/Charles | Grian, Technoblade & Mumbo Jumbo & Grian
Comments: 92
Kudos: 249





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ..... hi hermitcraft crew! im v nervous!
> 
> i should probably note that technoblade is like... circa equivalent to a 5-7 year old in the first chapter? he wont be fully in character until his later years. so. fair warning. also fair warning that i will be attempting to balance both the romance and the parenthood aspects so. enjoy?

Of all the resources to collect, Grian thinks leaves have to be the most annoying.

Grian grumbles as he hacks away at the jungle leaves with a pair of shears. It’s his fourth pair in the past few hours he’s been collecting leaves, and he’s running low on iron (and with a bitter laugh, he remembers the stacks of diamonds tucked away in his ender chest. How did he have more diamonds than iron?). He’ll have to go mining soon (or more likely just “borrowing” from a friend’s storage), but he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

He wipes the sweat off his face as he throws the blocks of leaves into a shulker box. He takes a moment to look out at the sea of destruction he’s left behind him.

Pillars of wood stand in the forest, branches swaying with the slight breeze. There’s at least a couple acres stripped of their leaves, and what used to be a bright forest is now a wasteland.

Grian winces at that. Deforestation is his least favorite hobby, but all he can do is hope this build is worth it.

He turns back towards where he needed to hack away at more leaves, only to freeze.

There’s pink in the leaves. As far as he knows, no tree has pink in it. Has somebody pulled a prank on him?

Grian frowns as he carefully shears away the leaf blocks blocking his view. His frown only deepens when he hears a small, feeble cry. What is that? Who is that?

He shears away the last leaf block and finds a pig. But it’s not a pig, it’s a kid. But it’s not a kid, it’s a pig…?

It sure is the body of a pig—a baby one to be exact, complete with a snout and pig ears. But it’s sitting with its back against a leaf block and it has its knees tucked close to its chest, a very human position. A tattered red cape is hung around its neck.

“What on Earth?” escapes from Grian’s lips before he can think about it.

That’s enough to catch the attention of whatever creature this is, because the child’s gaze locks onto him before the child scrambles away, shaking. It wraps the cape around its body, its eyes too big and too wide for Grian’s heart to not drop. What happened to this child?

“Hey, hey, I won’t hurt you,” Grian whispers. Goodness, it’s been too long since he’s cared for someone who wasn’t himself. Everyone needs food, right? He takes a golden carrot out of his pocket and holds it out to the child, keeping his movements slow and steady. “Are you hungry? We eat these around here.”

The child eyes him carefully but takes the golden carrot. It takes one bite, then swallows it all in one bite.

“Would you like more?” Grian asks.

The child nods.

Four golden carrots later, the child’s stopped shaking and its body isn’t tense. Grian seems to have earned its trust; if he messes up now, he’ll never forgive himself.

But… introductions are probably important, right?

Grian clears his throat and holds out a hand palm-up. He draws his lips into the warmest smile he can. “My name’s Grian. What’s your name?”

No answer.

“Well, that’s alright. You’re on the Hermitcraft server right now. Where are you from?”

Again, no answer.

“I suppose that’s okay, too.” Grian looks down at the communicator strapped to his wrist. There has to be someone better at taking care of other people still awake. Maybe Xisuma or Bdubs or—

Great. Mumbo’s the only one awake. The man can barely even take care of himself, and of course every hermit just had to decide to fix their sleep schedules tonight.

It’s not the best option, but Grian needs all the help he can get, especially with night about to fall.

Grian glances back up and tries not to let his fallen hopes show on his face. “It’s getting close to night. Can I introduce you to one of my friends back home?”

The child glances back and forth between Grian’s hand and his eyes before crawling into Grian’s arms.

Oh. _Oh._ Well, this is too precious.

He can’t waste time marveling over how cute it is. Night will come anytime soon and he has to get inside before the mobs emerge. Most of his mansion is cold and empty at the moment, not to mention its sheer size is probably inappropriate for keeping watch over a child. Mumbo's base is a bit terrifying to him even as an adult, and Mumbo's hobbit hole is so overcrowded it can't be classified as a living space.

But Grian knows his own hobbit hole is fully furnished (and more importantly lacks a pile of chest minecarts stacked to the ceiling). The hobbit hole would be enough to keep the cold night wind out. Did he keep a bed in there, though? Children need comfortable surfaces, right? He can’t remember, and the fuzziness in his head isn’t helping. All he knows is he has to move quickly.

Grian pulls back the fabric of his sweater to type on the communicator strapped to his wrist.

 **Grian:** Mumbo. My hobbit hole. NOW.  
 **Grian:** And bring a bed pls thanksss  
 **MumboJumbo:** ?  
 **MumboJumbo:** omw

Hopefully Mumbo can sense the urgency in that. Knowing Mumbo, though, Grian won’t hold his breath on it.

Grian eyes the rockets in his offhand. Traveling with a child is safest on foot, but his base is so far away from the forest and night could fall at any second…

Well, there’s no other way around it.

He shifts the child into the nook of his left elbow as he picks up his shulker box. The rockets move to his right hand. “We’re gonna go for a bit of a ride, so hang on tight, okay?”

The child’s grip on him tightens, and Grian takes that as a cue to fly up into the air. 

Grian closes his eyes against the initial burst of wind against his face, jerking his head side-to-side to clear the hair in front of his eyes. He waits for the wind to slow before opening his eyes. When he looks down, the child is gazing off in the direction of the white sparkles behind them, its mouth slightly agape in amazement.

Grian can’t help but smile.

Maybe he has a better handle on this than he thought.

* * *

Mumbo’s already at his base when Grian lands on the ground with a softer landing than usual.

“Grian?” Mumbo says, “What’s this about? I brought a couple beds but I’m not sure if—Oh.”

Mumbo’s spotted the child, and the child’s spotted Mumbo.

“Oh, hey, little fella!” Mumbo says, his voice raised an octave. Grian would laugh if he wasn’t just as panicked. “How are you doing? You doing okay?”

Silence.

Grian opens his mouth to interrupt what would inevitably turn into Mumbo rambling for hours, but the snores come before his words.

It fell asleep on his shoulder. It fell asleep on his shoulder!

Wordlessly, Mumbo takes a bed out of his inventory and places it on the ground, and Grian can’t be more thankful for his presence than at that moment. Grian adjusts the child in his arms before setting it in bed, tucking the covers in. His heart tugs when he realizes the child is so small it only takes up half the bed.

There’s another silence before Mumbo clears his throat as quietly as he can and says, “Grian. A word outside, please?”

Right. They have to actually communicate with each other.

Grian follows Mumbo outside the front doors of the hobbit hole and shuts the door behind him. The light from the torches around them are bright enough to ward off any mob coming their way, but he still can’t help but tense, especially now with a child in the house. His respawn point was too far away to make it back in time to protect it.

“So,” Mumbo starts, “care to explain what this is all about?”

Right. Grian had just dumped this whole situation onto Mumbo without explanation.

So Grian spills everything that happened, from finding the child in the forest to earning its trust with golden carrots to the amazement in its eyes when it saw the trail of sparks from the firework rockets. He excises his worry from the speech; no need to burden Mumbo with all that.

Mumbo is silent at the end of his explanation, his face scrunched in thought. “... This really is quite a tricky situation, isn’t it? How do you keep getting yourself into these things?”

Grian smiles and punches Mumbo’s arm when he realizes that last sentence is a joke, and his heart leaps when Mumbo laughs. “Grumbot and Jrumbot are different, okay? We built them, they don’t require much maintenance, they don’t…”

The smile slips off both their faces.

This is an actual person they’re dealing with. While they can power Grumbot and Jrumbot online and offline, this child has its own history, its own future, its own will and the power to carry that will out. Neither of them had taken care of a kid before, not to mention he and Mumbo are the most infamously forgetful people on the server. What’re they supposed to do?

The weight of it all comes crashing down on him in a resounding overture. He’s in the middle of building his mansion, managing the Barge, and working on so many other ideas he’s only just started. Everyone else on the server is wrapped up in their own projects, too. How would a child fit into all this?

“Listen,” Mumbo says, his voice deeper and quieter. Something about it anchors Grian back to reality (and he knows exactly what it is, but there’s far more pressing things to think about). “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We’ll take care of it together for now. When Xisuma gets on, we’ll explain the situation to him, and he can think of what to do from there, okay? No need to panic.”

“You sound very panicked.”

“Probably because I am! I’m not gonna lie, I feel very, incredibly panicked right now, possibly more than I’ve felt ever. But…” He trails off, his gaze falling on Grian. “This whole discovery must have been far more stressful for you, right? You should sleep.”

Grian frowns at that. “You should sleep, too. How long have you been up working on your base?”

“Then we’ll sleep in shifts.”

“What if it wakes up—”

“I’ll be here to take care of it. If there’s any trouble, I’ll wake you up.”

It’s only then Grian realizes just how heavy his shoulders feel and how much every part of his body aches. Kids are hard, hard work. Sleep is tempting, but…

Oh, goodness gracious, he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open. He’s in no state to look after a child.

And besides that, Mumbo’s known him the longest out of everyone on the server. In that time, Grian’s gotten to know him like the back of his hand, from the times he’s most likely to be awake to instantly being able to recognize one of his redstone designs. He trusts Mumbo more than he trusts himself.

“I think I’ll take your offer. Just wake me up when it’s my turn to keep watch,” Grian says, a yawn cutting him off halfway. He rests his head on Mumbo’s shoulder. Now that the original panic has faded, he can smile and lose himself in the contact. “So, this is what it takes for you to pay me a bit of attention, huh? A child of unknown origin being discovered on the server?”

Mumbo snorts at that as Grian giggles, but even without looking up, Grian can tell he’s smiling. “Spare me the theatrics, Grian. You know I care.”

He cares. He really does care. His traitorous heart lets him believe Mumbo cares for him in the same way he cares for Mumbo as he’s carried inside the house and gently set down next to the bed.

Grian falls asleep to the sound of the child’s snores and Mumbo humming under his breath. He can’t be happier.

* * *

“... an. Grian. Grian!”

Grian wakes with a yawn and a hand shaking his shoulder. When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by Mumbo. The child is leaned against a wall away, reading a book.

Right. That happened. They are now in possession of a child. A living, breathing creature that needs protection from the outside world.

Oh, hell.

Grian offers the child a smile, but the child is too engrossed in its book to notice. The child is dressed differently than before, and Grian figures he knows who to blame. 

“Only you would put a child in a white dress shirt and red dress pants. Are those combat boots as well?”

“Only you would wake up and immediately criticize somebody’s clothing choices,” Mumbo retorted. His gaze fell and something shyer replaced it. “He woke up earlier than you, so I took him back to my base—the hobbit hole, not the whole megabuild—to see if he wanted any clothes, and those are the ones he took. Any objections?”

Grian glanced over at the child. “I mean, if he picked it out… Oh, did he tell you his name?”

“No. Just that he’s a boy.” Mumbo glances down at the communicator on his wrist. “X is awake now, by the way. He should be here at any—”

Someone knocks on the door.

Mumbo nods. “Right. That should be X. I’ll go get it.”

After Mumbo walks away, Grian takes a moment to evaluate the child in front of him, who’s stopped reading the book upon hearing of a stranger’s name.

The clothes on him are clearly too oversized, with there being at least a meter difference between his height and Mumbo’s height. They’d have to take everything to Cleo for tailoring. And while adults could get away with subpar nutrition, a child can’t just live off golden carrots, right? Who on the server has a food source other than golden carrots?

Well, before all that, he should ground himself in the present. He recognizes that nervous finger fidget—Mumbo does that all the time.

“Hey,” Grian calls softly. He waits for the child to turn to him before offering him a gentle smile he knows calms Mumbo down. Judging by the tension in the child’s fingers fading, the technique works on both people. “Xisuma’s the admin of this server. He treats everyone nicely, especially newcomers. We have nothing to worry about.”

But even with his assurance, the tension in the child’s body comes back full force as soon as Xisuma enters the room. The child races forward to grip the stitch of Grian’s sweater.

Xisuma, seeing this, keeps his distance and stands next to Mumbo. He gives the child a kind smile and raises his palms up to show empty hands. “Hello, welcome to Hermitcraft!” he says. “I’m Xisumavoid, but you can call me Xisuma or X if you’d like. What brings you here?”

The child hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor. His grip on Grian’s sweater grows tighter, and it takes everything in Grian to not lay his hand over where the child held onto him. “I don’t know,” he answers.

(Good lord, a kid’s voice is deeper than his voice. Grian tries not to think about that too much.)

“Do you remember much from your past?”

He stays silent.

“You don’t have to answer, just asking,” Xisuma says. “More knowledge is always good, but it’s not necessary. Do you have a name you’d like us to call you?”

Another silence passes, but the child mumbles out, “Technoblade. My name is Techno.”

Xisuma smiles at that. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Techno. The other hermits—the players on this server—will want to meet you. Shall we give you some time to adjust before then?”

Techno nods.

“Of course. I’ll get going soon, but before I leave, I have to give you this.” Xisuma holds up a communicator. “This is called a communicator. You’ll be able to text all the hermits and see their status if you’d like to take a look at it before you meet them. Everyone on the server has one. Grian, if you would…”

It takes Grian a moment to realize Xisuma is holding the communicator out to him, but he takes it anyway and turns to Techno, who seems much more relaxed than just minutes ago. Sometimes, he swears Xisuma is more magical than Scar, the resident self-proclaimed wizard.

"Do you want me to put this on you?" Grian asks.

Techno shrugs and releases his grip on Grian's sweater to hold his wrist out. After Grian equips the communicator on him, he holds onto Grian's sweater again.

Grian tries not to let his heart swell at that and fails miserably. When he looks up and locks eyes with Mumbo, he knows he's thinking the same.

"Right," Xisuma says. "Let me know if you have any questions about the communicator or the server or anything, alright? I'll get out of your hair now. Grian, Mumbo, accompany me outside for a bit, won’t you?"

Techno seems all too relieved at that, but he waves Xisuma a goodbye as they walk out the door.

As soon as the door shuts, Xisuma gets straight to business. "We’ll be meeting in front of the town hall in two hours. Make your preparations by then.”

“You say that like we’re having another war,” Grian croaks in an attempt to soften the situation. It’s the only thing he can do.

Xisuma’s gaze softens, and he offers Grian a pat on the shoulder. “Hey, chin up. I’m sure everything will turn out okay in the end. If you need help with anything, I’m always one message away.”

“Thank you, X,” Mumbo says with a smile that probably doesn’t even convince himself.

Xisuma nods. He pulls out a stack of rockets, then takes off into the air, taking away any sense of stability Grian had remaining.

Distantly, Grian remembers there’s an unattended child in the house.

“Come on,” Grian says, turning back towards the door. “Let’s make preparations.

Mumbo doesn’t appear to have heard him at first. Before Grian can repeat what he said, Mumbo takes the first step to open the door.

* * *

In the end, Grian explains everything to Techno while Mumbo builds a redstone contraption in the shopping district (Mumbo calls it a distraction contraption. Grian calls it a toy) a couple plots away from the meeting’s location.

“The hermits are all incredible people,” Grian had said. “Don’t worry about them, okay?”

The disbelieving look Techno had given him is still on his mind by the time Grian arrives at the shopping district with Techno in his arms, but it slips as soon as he sees the monstrosity Mumbo’s built right in the middle of the road.

“Oh my word,” Grian breathes as he sets Techno down. “Mumbo, what _is_ that?”

Mumbo doesn’t look concerned. “The distraction contraption.”

A mess of redstone and iron blocks is what it is. There’s hoppers, circuits, torches everywhere, and Grian’s eyes cross trying to keep track of it all. The only thing he can clearly make out is the interface with buttons and levers that look too tempting.

It’s over the top, it’s unnecessary, but most of all, it’s so ridiculously _Mumbo_ he can’t not love it.

Techno’s already squinting at the redstone, jumping up and down to get a better view of the whole contraption. Even after Mumbo explains the interface, Techno’s not paying attention to the redstone lamps that light up or the noises it makes; he eyes it with a careful distrust that makes Grian happy the machine seems to be doing its purpose and wonder where he had learnt all that distrust from.

The two dismiss themselves from Techno to walk a couple plots forward into in front of the town hall. The other hermits are waiting for them.

Grian takes a seat on the steps of the stairs next to Ren, who offers him a reassuring smile. Mumbo opts to stand just a few steps below them.

“Well, looks like we’re all here,” Xisuma says. His gaze falls on Grian and Mumbo. “Would you two care to explain the situation?”

Grian turns towards Mumbo, only to find him staring helplessly at him with a slightly panicked expression.

Excellent. Mumbo’s planned explanation probably got lost somewhere in all that redstone.

So Grian explains (with a few contributions from Xisuma on the server side of things), from last night to this morning. The other hermits stay quiet throughout it all, and he’s grateful for it until he finishes his last sentence and is met with thoughtful, dreadful silence.

“So what you’re telling us is,” Scar says, “Grian and Mumbo accidentally adopted another kid?”

“Dude, that’s not the point—”

Then Iskall leans back against the railings and asks, “How do you and Mumbo keep getting into these situations?”

“Guys, there’s a _child_ on the server,” False sighs, “Has anyone here ever even seen a kid before?”

Silence.

Ren raises his hand.

“No, your Ren the Kid era doesn’t count.”

Ren lowers his hand.

“It’s just strange,” Xisuma mutters as he pulls up an admin control panel behind his helmet. “I can see Techno’s joined the server just recently, but I can’t see which server he came from. Normally that would mean he was banned from his previous server, but…”

The implication went unsaid. _Who would ban a child this young from a server?_

Jevin clears his throat. “I mean, even if there’s that whole server mystery, we still need someone to take care of him.”

That’s true. And judging by the nods around him, everyone’s come to that realization, too.

False raises her palms up. “I’m gonna go ahead and take myself out of the drawing right away. My base is dangerous for a person that small.”

“So is mine, but I’m fine with taking him in,” Tango says. “I’m pretty sure all the things I’ve heard about children have to do with them liking simple designs. You know, cartoons? Simple design? Eh?”

“Bright colors, too,” Stress muses, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I’d reckon my base is best for a kid.”

Other people start chiming in with their own ideas of who should be a caretaker, whose bases were already fit for a child, scheduling out potential roadblocks. It’s a mess, but it’s an organized mess, complete with back and forth discussion and everyone somehow finding a place to step in. That was the essence of the server, after all.

Grian looks around what’s come to feel like a sea of people, feeling his heart sink.

Suddenly it’s all become too much. He lives in chaos; hell, he thrives in chaos! So why does he feel nauseous at all this talk of who goes where at what time? Why does he feel so impossibly small in this group of people he’s grown to love?

Then one voice rings out clearer above the rest: “I’m staying with my dads." 

Not a yell, not a scream—a statement.

Everyone turns, only to see Techno standing as tall as he can on the road as though he were facing them in battle. Grian wonders if he's the only one who can see the smallest tremor in his eyes.

"I want to decide for once," Techno says with the same firmness in his voice. "I don't care who I meet. As long as I stay with my dads."

Silence meets his words.

"Your dads?" Joe asks.

Techno hesitates, then gestures vaguely towards Grian and Mumbo.

Grian's heart stops. He only barely hears Iskall mutter to Mumbo, "Dude, you really did accidentally adopt another kid."

"Oh, we can gladly arrange that," Xisuma says. His gaze moves towards them, but Grian finds he can't quite register it. "Are you two okay with it?"

Grian turns and locks eyes with Mumbo.

 _Are_ they okay with it? Agreeing to care for a lost kid for one night is worlds away from being caregivers for the foreseeable future. They both had projects that needed to be finished, memories to be made with friends, chaos to start on the server. How will a child fit into that? They've both taken care of pets before and hell, they technically had two sons, but a whole person? A whole person whose life they could destroy if they messed up once?

It's risky. He can't retreat into a creative world and test out parenting techniques before applying them. He can't take back what he says or does like he can tear down and rebuild walls. And he knows Mumbo's thinking the same.

But it's a life. A life thrown into disarray and tossed into the closest server like rubbage. That's no way to treat anyone.

He was poised to accept from the start. It was stupid to think he could ever decline in the first place.

Grian offers Mumbo a tired smile and holds his hand out.

Centuries seem to pass in silence, but Mumbo freezes time when he takes his hand and smiles back.

They can do this. With Mumbo, Grian feels he can do anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is 13k words long please appreciate it my eyes burn  
> also! note that techno still also wont be too in character at this stage of his life. this fic explores his childhood all the way up to his adulthood, so please dont be alarmed if he's not fully himself yet

Things move quickly from that point onwards. They decide almost immediately that Techno should move in with one of them, but then came the question of which space.

After locking eyes for a split second, they come to the same conclusion that Mumbo’s living base is terrifying enough to an adult, much less a child who came from what they can assume was a not-so-great world. Further discussion establishes Mumbo’s hobbit hole is overcrowded enough as it is and is too small anyway. And Grian had thought his hobbit hole felt cramped enough for him alone when he still lived there. Living with yet another person in there would be a nightmare.

That leaves either Grian’s mansion or completely building a new structure. Neither quite like the idea of having to work on something completely new, so they sketch out a plan.

“This is the shopping district,” Mumbo says, Techno latching onto the cuff of his sleeve. He has to bend down a little for Techno to hold it comfortably. “Everyone’s made their own little shops here to show off what they’ve made."

Grian's heart feels heavy as he tears his eyes away from them and walks away. The other hermits begin to walk away, too, but Bdubs discusses something with Scar on the steps of the town hall while Beef, TFC, and Ren whisper amongst themselves, occasionally throwing glances at Grian. Grian doesn’t have the energy to wonder what they’re scheming.

Mumbo would take care of Techno while Grian finished the interior of his mansion. It’s something he'd been putting off for so long, thinking and going back and forth between designs. He needs all the materials, the planning, the energy to place everything block by block. Frankly, he isn’t sure he has it in him.

Mumbo had pledged to help in any way he could, but with a child keeping him busy and his own projects on hold…

"Hey! Grian!"

Grian whirls around, only to see Bdubs jogging after him and Scar flying off into the air. He pushes his concerns aside. "Oh, hey, Bdubs. What do you need?"

Bdubs gives him a weird look. "What do I need? No, I should be asking what  _ you _ need."

"... I'm afraid I don't follow."

"I heard what you were talking about with Mumbo back there," Bdubs says carefully, slowly. "And I've seen the inside of your base. It, uh… leaves much to be desired."

Grian snorts at that. It’s dark and empty; it leaves  _ a lot _ to be desired.

"So I was thinking, what if you had some help? Scar and I talked about it, and we'd both be willing to help design and build the interior. You know, it'll be like building the town hall again. No cost to you either!"

Grian stares.

Bdubs and Scar aren't obligated to help. They aren't doing it to worm a favor out of him either; this is something they're choosing to do to support him, to support  _ Techno. _ And right now, that means the world.

Bdubs fidget under his blank stare. "I mean, if you want us to."

"Yeah, of course," Grian says, trying not to let his voice break. "I'd love that, actually. Thank you."

Bdubs must hear the appreciation in his voice, because he gives Grian a kind smile and says, "Let's get started then. You have an idea of the palette you want to use?"

Grian takes out a sheet of paper, and their planning begins.

* * *

The interior takes twelve days of tiring, mind-numbing work to even come close to resembling what should be the final product. 

Scar ends up joining him and Bdubs around day two, having cited needing to find someone to take care of Jellie as the reason he was late. Impulse drops off shulkers full of materials early in the morning of the third day when they're asleep with a note stating he doesn't expect repayment. Xisuma does the same thing on the night of day four but with a shulker box full of golden carrots and various types of stone. It takes until day seven for somebody to realize Stress had snuck in a build of a floral play area and until day eight for somebody to realize Cub had snuck in to complete an entire corner of the build for them. Mumbo sometimes flies by to say hello, but those moments are few and far between.

Everyone ends up helping in some form, and Grian can't be more thankful.

"Well," Grian says, brushing the last bit of concrete powder off his hands as he takes in the view. "We did it."

Scar cheers while Bdubs lets out a sigh of relief.

It's rushed, yes. They had run out of some select materials and needed to use a similarly colored object many times, yes. And yes, there’s so much Grian wants to change and adjust about the build that he could sit here all day pointing out every flaw. But it looks okay and is no longer a hazard to a child, and that's enough for everyone.

“Only took a couple thousand years, but your house is done now," Scar laughs.

His house? It feels wrong to say that now.

He built the outer walls and part of the interior, yes, but now it's the result of everyone's effort, every hermit's devotion to supporting each other. And really, it technically had been from the start, from the landscaping Scar had helped him with to the material scavenger hunt Tango had sent him on. Didn’t that apply to every building on the server?

It’s everyone’s house. While it’s far from a community space, he can safely say there’s a part of everyone in this building.

“Thank you,” Grian says with all the genuity he can put in his voice. “Thank you both.”

He feels he might cry. He needs to stop thinking about this.

Bdubs must notice it, because he gives Grian a soft smile and sets a hand on his shoulder. “No problem, buddy. Let's go show the kiddo his new home."

Right. Home.

* * *

The first thing Grian notices when Mumbo flies over with Techno is the amount of care he puts into lowering him to the floor. The second thing he notices, regretfully, is the pure awe in Mumbo's eyes as he scans the finished interior.

"Oh my—" Mumbo cuts himself off, his eyes flickering from chunk to chunk. "This was all done in twelve days?"

"Give or take," Scar muses.

Mumbo grins and laughs. "You three never fail to amaze me."

And suddenly, all the imperfections in his area of the build make themselves clear to Grian. The missing carpet here, the lack of symmetry there, the torch he had lazily put down in place of a sea lantern—it's not as amazing as Mumbo makes it out to be. 

But before his self-consciousness pushes him to point out said flaws, he remembers the most important person in the room.

"What do you think, Techno?" Grian asks. "You wanna live here with me?"

The idle talk Mumbo had struck up with Bdubs and Scar halts. They hold their breaths in anticipation.

Techno's gaze flickers everywhere but them, and he burns holes into his fidgeting fingers. He murmurs something underneath his breath, but upon realizing nobody can make out his words, he speaks louder. "Is it really okay for me to live here? I can go back to the tree, if you'd like."

Two sentences tell so much. 

The silence is almost deafening. Grian's still reeling by the time Bdubs crouches down to Techno's level.

"Hey, sweet angel," Bdubs says, his voice so quiet it's almost a whisper. "I'm Bdubs, and the guy behind me is Scar."

Scar offers him a shy wave from behind Bdubs.

"We're both known your dads for a very long time. You can trust me when I say they love you very much and they want to keep you safe. They want to live with you. Do you want to live with them?"

Techno lowers his gaze, his chin digging into his chest. "Um… yeah."

"Then what's stopping you?"

Techno stays silent.

Bdubs stands up to stand by Scar’s side, keeping his movements slow. He picks up a shulker box from the floor and gives Grian and Mumbo a salute. “Scar and I are gonna go now, alright? We’ve got some mayoral duties we’ve gotta attend to.”

“We do?” Scar asks in a way that implies they absolutely do not.

“We do.”

“Are you sure?”

“I— _ Yes, I’m sure,” _ Bdubs says, punctuating his sentence by elbowing Scar. He offers one last smile and farewell to the group before flying out of the house.

Scar stares after him, then turns to the group with a confused smile. “Well, I guess I’d better get going then,” he says, “See you later.” With that, he takes off after Bdubs, and Grian can hear remnants of their bickering even as they fly away.

And they’re left in silence.

“I see they’re getting along swimmingly,” Mumbo muses.

Grian chuckles to that. “Right. But we have matters to attend to of our own, do we not?”

Mumbo nods, then turns his attention back to Techno. He seems to contemplate kneeling down to Techno’s level like Bdubs had but decides against it. “So, what’s your final verdict, Techno? Is this somewhere you’d like to live?”

“If… yeah,” Techno says. “Yeah, this is… okay.”

No amount of nether stars or beacons have anything on how bright Techno's smile is. Grian's heart decides that quickly.

"Would you like a tour?" Grian asks.

Techno nods, and the three of them set off around the house.

It starts to feel more like a home with each step.

* * *

A week passes, and Grian would like to say there’s been progress. For one, he and Mumbo had finally put Techno in clothes that fit (courtesy of Mumbo trying to tailor a couple sets of clothing, failing, then Cleo gently asking if he needed help). They decided to stick with the outfit Techno had chosen on his first night in the server; he had picked it out himself, after all.

Diet had become a priority early into the week as well. The other hermits had contributed whatever foodstuffs they had lying around until Mumbo can get a crop farm up and running. He and Grian had sat down for a talk after Techno had gone to sleep last night and quickly decided on no meat. Given Techno’s questionable status as an animal hybrid, neither of the two felt that was safe.

And speaking of…

“I should tell you,” Mumbo says over what’s now their usual dinner routine, “Grian and I need to know where your health’s at, so we arranged to have a couple of our friends check that situation out. Is that okay?” Upon seeing Techno’s shoulders tense at that, he scrambled to add, “Not as many as you saw at the town hall, of course. It’s just two of our friends, Doc and Stress. And they’re both lovely people we trust with our lives, you know? They’re very smart, very capable, very—”

“What he means to say is,” Grian sighs, “Doc and Stress will be performing their usual check-up, and we’ll be in the room with you. Just wanted to give you a heads up.” He turned to Mumbo. “That’s all you needed to say, dude.”

Mumbo gives him a nervous shrug back, and Grian wonders how the hell he fell in love with this idiot.

“Are you alright with that?” Grian asks.

Techno swallows down the chunk of potato with a poorly hidden shake in his shrug. “I’m… yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.”

Grian turns to Mumbo with a raised eyebrow. By the time he turns all the way, Mumbo’s already looking at him.

Are they certain this is a child and not a tiny person they’ve picked up? The maturity in his responses is more than they would expect out of a child. While it makes for an easier time parenting…

It’s alarming. They need to get to the bottom of this soon.

The rest of dinner is filled with Mumbo’s lackluster attempts at conversation and the sound of silverware clanking against plates.

* * *

The day starts the most chaotically it has in what feels like forever, and Grian welcomes it.

“Hey,” Mumbo calls as he cleans the plates from breakfast. “When did you say Stress and Doc were coming over?”

Well, he’d given them a rough timespan but no exact time. Grian opens his mouth to answer but—

“Stress!” someone calls. “Watch out!”

Stress’s voice is audible through the walls of the mansion. “Huh? What’d you say, Doc—”

Thud!

Huh. Grian’s crashed into enough walls to know what the sound of that is. And when he looks up at the windows, he’s met with Stress’s face squished against the glass panes, her body slowly sliding down as her elytra catches air. She lands on the windowsill with another crash.

Doc lands on the stairs of the mansion without a hitch, looks up, and shakes his head.

And before he knows it, Grian’s bent over the table laughing, almost guffawing. He hears Mumbo enter his own fit of laughter and even a couple chuckles from Techno.

(It warms his heart. It really does. But something about the way Stress falls again next to Doc and Doc drips with disappointment is enough to override that and send him into another laughing fit.)

“You okay?” Doc asks.

Stress brushes stray pebbles and crushed rock off her clothes as she stands up, and shines them her winning smile. “I’m fine.”

“And that’s why I carry the important stuff,” Doc sighs, though not even he can keep the smile off his face. He takes a moment to knock on the wooden door despite Grian having left it open for them earlier and clears his throat. “We’re here, in case we haven’t made it obvious.”

“Oh, no, you’ve made it very obvious,” Mumbo says when his laughter starts to die.

Grian allows himself to giggle a bit more before addressing their guests. “We’re not quite done cleaning up yet. Would you like to take a seat?”

He carries a plate away as Stress and Doc take Mumbo and Grian’s place on the left side of the dining table. Techno, who’s seated across from them, freezes but doesn’t hide. He supposes the heads-up was helpful in at least one way.

Stress is the first to speak as Grian and Mumbo wash dishes, and Grian can only assume she’s speaking to Techno. “‘Ello, love! I’m Stress, the one you saw take a great big fall. Doc’s the one next to me who hates fun. What’s your name?”

Doc snorts at that. “For the record, I love fun. I’m the most fun-loving hermit on here.”

“Sure, you are, Doc.”

There’s a pause before Grian hears Techno quietly say, “I’m Techno.”

“Nice to meet you, Techno,” Doc says. “Have you found the server nice so far?”

But Techno doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he says, “You’re green.”

“I am.” There’s a pause where Grian imagines Doc’s looking for the simple words to explain something complicated, and Stress giggles in that silence. “Have you heard of hybrids?”

Another pause. Techno must’ve shook his head.

“Well, a hybrid is someone who is part human and part another mob. On this server, we have me, a creeper hybrid. We have Cleo, a zombie hybrid, and Jevin, a slime hybrid. And Ren is… Does Ren count as a dog hybrid?”

“No, he’s just like that,” Stress says.

“Right. Of course. The point is we’re not all human on here, and that’s okay. We think you might be a hybrid, too, but we’re not sure yet.”

Grian frowns and turns around as he sets the last plate on a rack to dry, ready to clarify.

But Techno doesn't seem as shocked by that as Grian expects him to be. He’s absorbed the knowledge quickly. He absorbs knowledge quickly in general, Grian’s noticed. Instead, his gaze darts between the almost foliage-like skin on Doc’s body and the tough, pink skin on his. “I’d like to know,” he says quietly.

Mumbo wrings his hands of the stray water from the sink, seemingly oblivious to the tension. “We’re done now. Do you two need any assistance?”

“Maybe,” Doc says. He turns to Techno and takes what looks like a thin layer of honey on a sheet of paper. “All we’ll be doing for this test is putting some tape on you and taking it off really quickly. It won’t hurt at all. Are you okay with me doing that or would you rather have your dads do it?”

All eyes turn to Techno, but Techno doesn’t hesitate. “I’m okay with that.”

Grian locks eyes with Mumbo, his lips tugging up into a smile. Techno’s finally getting familiar with their world, and Grian’s heart couldn’t be warmer.

“Hold your arm out, love,” Stress says. She has an empty glass bottle in her own hands.

The procedure (if it can be called that) takes ten seconds tops before Doc rolls up the sheet of paper and Stress places it in the glass bottle. Just like that, the procedure they had been anticipating for so long is over.

Mumbo runs a towel under the sink and gingerly begins to wipe the stray honey off Techno’s arm. Grian notes with a smile that Techno’s arm is completely lax. “So, tape?”

“Yup!” Stress says, capping the bottle. She hands the bottle to Doc, who promptly places it in his inventory. “Honey has some sticky properties to it, so we thought we’d give it a try for some stuff other than redstone and decoration.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.” And goodness, Grian can already see the ideas swirling in Mumbo’s head. He’s not sure whether to be excited himself or scared.

“Results should be ready in a few days,” Doc says. He stands up from his seat with Stress. “See you then, I guess.”

“Bye, you three!” Stress cheers.

Grian and Mumbo start giving their own farewells, but Techno speaks, quieting the room.

“W-Wait, your name is Doc?”

Doc blinks, surprised, but nods.

“And your name is Stress?”

Stress nods as well.

Techno falls silent after that, his head tilted down in thought. He thinks too much sometimes.

Later that night when Grian’s searching for a bedtime story he swears he left in Techno’s bedroom, he asks, “What did you think of our friends, Techno?”

Techno doesn’t shift from his position underneath the blankets. Just when Grian thinks he doesn’t hear the question, he says, “They’re nice. Stress is really kind. Doc is cool, I think. Especially his, um…” Techno lifts a hand and points it to his eye.

“Oh, his red eye?”

“Yeah.”

Grian can’t help but smile at that. He’s certain Doc would be pleased to hear that, but he’s not so certain he wants to give him the satisfaction. “Yeah, they’re both really cool people. I like them a lot.”

“... I like them a lot, too.”

Later while Grian’s looking through more chests for the book, he swears he can hear Techno repeating their names underneath his breath, as if committing them to memory.

* * *

Mumbo stays over that night, and Grian finds he’s becoming accustomed to his almost constant presence. He doesn’t know if that scares him or not.

“Techno’s asleep?” Mumbo asks quietly, as if Techno would be able to hear them from across the mansion.

Grian nods. The snores after his last bedtime story were unmistakable, though today’s reading session had taken much longer than the prior ones, enough time that no hint of sun is visible outside. He takes a seat on his bed next to Mumbo and rubs his eyes.

Mumbo chuckles at that. “You look tired. Want me to read to him next time?”

Grian rolls his eyes and scoffs, though a smile tugs at his lips. “As if you could do half the voices I do.”

“I don’t know, I’d say I can do a fair amount of voices. You’ve heard me go high before.”

Grian giggles at the memories that seem so far away now. “That, I have,” he sighs. “That, I have.”

Mumbo is smiling, but his fingers are fidgeting in that way they do when he has something to say. Grian can recognize that in an instant.

“Mumbo,” Grian calls quietly, “just say what’s on your mind.”

Mumbo hesitates but says, “Do you think we need to take a different approach to this?”

Grian blinks, but before he can ask for clarification, Mumbo elaborates.

“I mean, he seemed much less…  _ stressed _ , for lack of a better word, meeting Doc and Stress for the first time after he had already seen Stress crash into that window. Whether that’s because they seemed like less of a threat after that or because Stress embraced that silliness, I’m not sure, but it did wonders for his anxiety level in that situation. I was thinking we should apply that to all the hermits. Maybe not quite crashing into windows, but just something small that shows their personality before he meets them, you know?”

That’s a lot of words Mumbo just threw at him. Grian pauses to digest the words as he always does.

Less stressed with silliness… showing personality…

“So,” Grian says, “what you’re saying is we should get the other hermits to meet Techno… before they actually meet him?”

Mumbo looks relieved at that. “Yes, essentially.”

Huh.

It’s a fascinating thought. It’s not a pattern Grian had noticed, but looking back at today, it makes sense. Stress had eliminated herself as a threat and shown the silliness they love about her the moment she had crashed into that window, and Doc had revealed the sweetness behind his tough exterior through the fondness and care he offered Stress. Even before they had stepped into the mansion, they had already shown their cards. They became predictable (though Grian knows better, and he’s sure Mumbo does, too). If there’s one thing a traumatized kid from a dangerous world would feel comforted by, it’s predictability.

Heh. Funny, considering how unpredictable Grian considered himself and Mumbo. But that was neither here nor there.

“I think you’re right,” Grian says.

“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if I was on the right track or if I was just making myself look like a fool.”

“Don’t worry, you already do that well enough.”

Mumbo squeaks at that, then huffs indignantly as Grian laughs. “I’ll have you know I’m proud of my bumbleness.”

“Are you?”

“No.” Mumbo smiles as Grian’s laughter settles down. 

“So this is how we’re going to approach meetings now? Personality previews?” Grian pauses. “Dude, you could’ve condensed that entire thing down to two words.”

“I thought we were done making fun of me, but yes.”

“Then who should we start with after Doc and Stress? There’s, like, twenty more people for Techno to meet.”

Mumbo pauses to think for a moment, then snaps his head up, and Grian can practically see the lightbulb blinking over his head. “Maybe we should let the other hermits decide how they want to make their preview. Like, if they want to pop by for a quick conversation or send anything.”

That’s their most convenient option. At least, out of the ones Grian can think of. He nods, his head feeling heavier by the second. The nights he’s spent staying up have finally caught up with him, it seems. “I think that’s a good idea. He’s already met Scar and Bdubs. Do you think it’s a good idea to reacquaint him with them?”

“I think so. And, um…” Mumbo looks down, his fingers fidgeting.

Grian frowns at that and sets a hand on his shoulder. “Mumbo, just say whatever you’re thinking. You’ve been on the mark so far.”

Mumbo hesitates, but his voice is timid and quiet when he speaks. “Do you think we could introduce Techno to Iskall anytime soon? I guess we don’t have to, but we haven’t spoken in a while because of everything, and as idiotic as he is sometimes, I think he’d be a good role model for—”

“It’s not that deep, Mumbo,” Grian says. “Iskall’s our friend. Of course we can.”

Grian doesn’t think about the brightness in Mumbo’s eyes after those words leave his mouth or how highly he speaks of Iskall when he’s not around. He’s his best friend after all, and he can’t blame him. Hell, Grian loves the man, too! It was impossible to not.

At the same time, though, he can’t help the hurt in his heart as he nods along to an endbust Mumbo and Iskall had gone on He can’t help but let his eyes escape to the pillow calling his name because looking at Mumbo directly hurts too much, like he’s the sun and the light that radiates from him is too much. Because it is too much. He doesn’t want to think about how much happier both Mumbo and Techno would’ve been had he and anybody else on the server been designated parents.

But it haunts him. Iskall is both Mumbo’s best friend and one of the most well-rounded players on the server. Bdubs, though he acts a bit more recklessly around the other hermits, has the patience of a saint when he wants to. Scar can easily terraform a space into a magical experience for a kid and is a sweetheart to boot. Any other hermit would be a better choice of parenting partner. Why did Techno choose Grian?

“Grian?” Mumbo calls, and Grian becomes aware of the silence that preceded his name. “Are you alright?”

He can’t know. There’s already too much on his plate.

Grian musters a smile and yawns. “Yeah, just tired. Don’t worry about me.”

Mumbo sighs at that but stands up, and Grian doesn’t know whether to feel relieved at the pressure in the room lightening or mournful of the lost closeness. He offers Grian a fond smile that rips his heart just a little bit. “You do worry me a lot, Grian. Take care of yourself, okay? You have a lot of people who care about you.”

“Yeah,” Grian says. “You, too.”

* * *

The hermits bring their A game to everything they do. Grian supposes he shouldn’t be surprised by this amount of responses to them asking who would be willing to participate in a preview, but an entire shulker monster full of items at their front door was not anywhere near the realm of what he had expected.

There’s figurines in one shulker box—undoubtedly from Cleo. In another shulker box, Tango’s stuffed redstone components and instructions in a book for what’s supposedly the “Super Awesome Fun Toy-ificator”, and Zedaph sends them a similarly chaotic box with an instruction book full of puns. There’s just a box full of cookies from Keralis, who’s apparently the only hermit thoughtful enough to leave his name with the box. They’ll have to introduce everything to Techno slowly.

But what catches Grian’s eye is the blue box. He opens it, only to find more books than he can count crammed into it.

He picks one up.  _ The Dog and the Bone _ by Renthedog. A cursory flip through tells him it’s a picture book.

He picks up another one.  _ Beefy Tales Vol. 3 _ by VintageBeef. The first few pages tell him it’s a book told from a first-person perspective. The words are bigger than usual, but no pictures are present.

Then he picks up a book thicker than the other two.  _ Myths and Legends of the Modern Age _ by TinFoilChef. The pages are packed full of words, some of which Grian has trouble reading.

There’s a note on the top half of the shulker box. Grian drops the books back in the box and reads the note.

_ Grian and Mumbo, _

_ We’ve been planning this since we found out Techno was on the server, and we thought your announcement yesterday was the perfect chance to drop this off. There’s a shulker box of stories from all of us, so three shulkers in total (though Ren’s the one delivering this, so if it’s mixed up, blame him). Ren’s stories are perfectly fine to show to Techno at his age. You might want to wait for Techno to grow a bit older before introducing him to Beef’s stories, and you’ll definitely want to wait for TFC’s stories. All are connected in some way or another. _

_ Storytelling is a gift! Stories are essential to our culture, our long-lived survival. Please keep that love of reading in your son’s heart. _

_ Signed,  
_ _ Beef, Rendog, TFC _

Three shulker boxes worth of stories? Three? They were willing to sit down and write stories for that long?

Grian opens the other two blue boxes. True to their word, there are more books, more than Grian knows what to do with.

It’s heartwarming. They have their back; every hermit’s supporting them in whatever way they can.

“Grian!” Mumbo calls. “False gave us a sword. What do we do with it?”

Grian laughs and picks up the shulker boxes of books before walking towards Mumbo’s side of the shulker monster.

* * *

True to Doc’s word, they receive the results within a few days.

Grian passes over all the papers with the graphs and charts to Mumbo, who’s just across the dining table from him, and skips to the conclusion. He can’t say he’s surprised. “Techno, you’re a completely healthy piglin hybrid.”

Techno blinks at that, then drops his gaze to the skin on his arms. It explains a lot, Grian realizes now, from his floppy ears to the fact he still has such good dexterity in his fingers. But piglins are only found in the Nether, the most inhospitable environment Grian’s ever explored. Jevin, Cleo, Doc—all of them are hybrids of mobs found in the Overworld, and he knows they’d all gone through their own trials. Just what did Techno experience in his original server? What happened before he came to this world?

“Huh,” Techno says, turning his hand over. “I guess I am.”

And they leave it at that.

* * *

It had been too long since a death, and of course, Scar dies in the stupidest way possible before they read Techno to sleep.

“He starved to death,” Mumbo says as Grian laughs. “How does that happen? What is he doing?”

Grian’s laughter fades, but he’s still giggling when he reads through the following messages of hermits dunking on him for such an avoidable death. He’s about to type his own retort when he hears hurried breathing from the bed.

Techno’s eyes are frozen on the communicator around his wrist, and his chest moves up and down frantically with his breath. He sits up with his other hand gripped so tightly around his blankets his knuckles turn a paler pink. His eyes are watery, more panicked than Grian’s ever seen them.

Grian’s stomach drops.

Does he think…?

“Oh, no, Techno,” Grian says, “it’s okay. We have respawn on this world. Scar’s still alive and will be alive no matter what he does.” He holds out a hand, and Techno’s hand moves to latch onto it like an anchor.

“You’re gonna be okay, Techno. Everything’s okay,” Mumbo adds.

Eventually, Techno’s breathing calms. His grip on Grian’s hand loosens until he retracts his hand back to his side. He blinks once, twice, thrice, then shuts his eyes.

Grian’s heart is still going wild. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, all that’s left is a bitter, disappointed feeling in himself for not addressing this. “We should have said something about respawn earlier. We’re sorry, Techno.”

Techno shakes his head and hands them the same picture book from yesterday. It’s getting repetitive, but Grian can’t argue with that.

Grian takes the picture book, exchanges a concerned glance with Mumbo, and starts reading.

* * *

He only dares to speak about it in his bedroom one hour later.

“So,” Grian says, “I think we can safely say there were no respawns in Techno’s old world.”

Mumbo nods. “Yeah. Hardcore, maybe?”

“I’m thinking he was in a hardcore world, yeah.”

The question of who was on that hardcore world and why Techno was there in the first place goes unspoken.

* * *

The shopping district is unusually busy today, Grian notices. Either that or he’s just been cooped up in the mansion for too long.

Grian smiles as Xisuma passes by, offering him a wave and nod. Techno’s grip around the cuff of his sweater tightens for a split second but loosens quickly enough Grian’s not sure he would’ve been able to tell if he wasn’t paying attention.

“Do you remember him?” Mumbo asks.

Techno nods, and they leave it at that.

It’s another sunny day in the shopping district. There’s distant conversation in every direction, most notably from the town hall. People fly in from the directions of their bases with dozens of shulker boxes in hand, and Grian feels a twinge of nostalgia in his heart for the shulkers he’d have to carry into the Barge.

Oh, wait.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Hey, Mumbo,” Grian calls, a bundle of nerves building in his gut. His voice rises an octave, but he can’t bring himself to care. “When’s the last time we checked our shops?”

“Why, I think that was…” Then a similar panic runs across Mumbo’s face as he remembers his shops. “Oh. Oh, goodness.”

Techno’s gaze darts between the two of them. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to die in his throat. Still, his grip on Grian’s cuff tightens. It tightens so much his knuckles turn a paler shade of pink.

Wait, Techno doesn’t think they’re about to leave him, does he…?

Grian wraps his hand around Techno’s, squeezing it as reassuringly as he can. “Mumbo, you go check on your shops. I’ll go to the Barge with Techno.”

Mumbo doesn’t look certain about that. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, you have more shops than I do and they’re farther away. Meet me in the Barge when you’re done, okay?”

“I, um, okay?”

Grian starts walking in the direction of the Barge, mindful of Techno’s pace next to his. “Come on, Techno, let’s go check up on the Barge.”

Techno’s steps plop down next to his. “The Barge?”

“My shop. Did Mumbo explain the shopping district to you well enough? I know he can be a bit of a spoon sometimes.”

“No, he told me about it. He just called it something else. I think he said empore?” Techno frowns at that, biting his lip. “Empere? Empo?”

Emporium. Technically, the name was the Grian Emporium.

“Emporium,” Grian says slowly. “Repeat after me. Em.”

“Em.”

“Por.”

“Por.”

“Ri.”

“Ri.”

“Um.”

“Um.”

“Emporium.”

“Empori…” Techno stumbles on his words but shakes his head and catches himself. “Rium. Em—Emporium. Emporium.”

Grian’s heart jumps when a smile crosses Techno’s face. “Emporium!”

“Emporium! Emporium!” There’s a bounce in his step now, and he’s almost skipping as he takes the lead towards the arches of the Barge in the background. It’s the closest to a child Grian’s ever seen him.

“You’ve got it!” Grian chuckles. He speeds up his pace to keep up with Techno’s newfound energy and lets his mouth stretch into a grin. “I’m so proud of you!”

Techno’s energy only ramps up at that. It’s not long before he takes off running, turning the corner faster than a rocket.

Grian turns after him, only to see two figures in the store entrance ahead of them. “Wait, Techno—”

But it’s too late. Techno’s already bumped into the figures and falling back—

And Grian catches him. Grian catches him and rights him on his feet, immediately lacing their fingers together when Techno reaches out to grab his hand. By the end of the whole ordeal, his heart is racing and Techno’s staring up at him with an expression he feels is important but can’t decipher.

“Oh, shoot,” someone says. “Were we in your way? Sorry, kiddo.”

Grian looks up and stands up straight, Techno still holding his hand as he retreats behind his leg. He can’t panic now; Techno can’t see him falter. So he catches his breath as quickly as he can and says, “Good morning, Cleo, Joe. Dog-catching going okay?”

Cleo rolls her eyes, but Joe seems happy, almost eager to discuss it. “Howdy, Grian. I’d wager it’s going quite well. The shopping district was dog-free when you walked in, right?” 

He finishes his sentence with a questioning look, but Grian gets the feeling it’s asking more than just about the dogs. Upon receiving a nod from Grian, he kneels down to Techno’s level and lightens his voice. “Howdy! What’s your name?”

Techno squeezes Grian’s hand but steps out just a little bit. “Um… Techno.”

“Nice to meetcha, Techno. I’m Joe Hills, dogcatcher of the shopping district. I don’t believe we’ve had a formal introduction yet, but I’m the one who sent you that fantasy board game.”

“Oh, don’t bring the kid into your…” Cleo bites her lip, and Grian silently thanks her for restraining her language. Instead, she kneels down next to Joe and waves with a smile. “Hello, I’m Cleo, the one who sent all the figurines. Sorry for bumping into you earlier. Are you alright?”

Techno’s gaze scans hers for any sign of anger, but his shoulders relax when he can’t find any. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” 

With the confirmation, Techno allows the defense rigidity in his body to drop, his limbs becoming loose. His gaze darts between Joe and Cleo before dropping onto the miniblock in Cleo’s hands. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” Cleo turns the miniblock over in her hand and begins to explain the miniblocks in the server.

Grian nods along. He remembers something Xisuma told him long ago when he joined their family of sorts, something about miniblocks being rare on other servers. That explains the curiosity Techno treats the miniblocks with as Cleo pulls out miniblock after miniblock after—goodness, how many miniblocks does she carry with her?

He almost loses himself in thought before Joe turns to him and locks their gazes together. Just when Grian thinks he’s initiated a staring contest (wouldn’t be the first time; nobody’s ever lost to Joe in a staring contest anyway), his communicator buzzes.

**_joehillssays whispers to you:_ ** We got it handled partner, you feel free to do whatever you need to do!

Grian looks back up, only to see Joe offering him a kind smile void of his usual chaotic energy.

The other hermits are reliable. They’re family to him. He needs to trust them, or he and Mumbo will never get anything done for the foreseeable future.

So Grian gives Joe an almost imperceptible nod of thanks before turning to his chests, opening each one and taking note of his stock. All the grindy-materials—sand, gravel, logs—are sold out, as are his bundle deals. The anvils and ender chests took a massive hit in stock. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed upon finding the netherite armor unsold.

Either way, he tunes back into the conversation when he’s just about finished making his rounds.

“So you just… make miniblocks from blocks?” Techno asks.

“Sometimes,” Joe says. “Depends. Most of the hermits will shake down a wanderin’ trader, or just buy from your father over here or from Xisuma’s shop. But really, the exchange of diamonds for materials is an intrinsically violent system that’s flawed to the very core.”

Oh, goodness. He should’ve expected this.

“Joe, please don’t radicalize my son,” Grian sighs as he stores his profits into an ender chest.

Techno seems less than concerned. “What does intrins…”

“Intrinsically,” Grian repeats slowly. “In-trins-si-call-ly.”

“Intrins-Intrinsically. Intrinsically.” Techno repeats it a couple times to himself, staring at the empty map in an item frame. Once he feels confident in his pronunciation, he says, “What does intrinsically mean?”

“As in, naturally. Like, that’s just the way it is,” Cleo answers, but her eyebrows are furrowed for a different reason. “Hey, Techno, can I ask you a question?”

Techno blinks. “You just did.”

Oh, Grian can almost hear Mumbo laughing at that. But Techno says it so dryly he can’t help but chuckle himself.

“Okay, well…” Cleo pops the empty map out of the item frame and holds it out to Techno. “Can you see these little… drawings?”

Drawings? Does she mean the words? Grian approaches them, opting to stand just a couple blocks away from them.

When Techno nods, Cleo continues. “Well, these drawings are words. Can you tell me what these words say?”

Techno stares at the empty map blankly, and it occurs to Grian that every book in his hobbit hole is filled with sketches of his building plans. He can’t remember ever writing a single word in those books.

“I see,” Cleo says. She holds her hand out for the empty map and pops it back into the frame when Techno gives it to her. “Thank you, Techno. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Joe clears his throat as Techno returns to Grian’s side. “I believe we best be going now. Thanks for your companionship, y’all.”

Cleo says her farewells and gifts Techno a leaf miniblock before taking off to the skies with Joe. Grian yells his own goodbyes after them with frantic waves. When he turns back to Techno, he’s turning the miniblock over in his hands, poking and prodding at the individual leaves in it.

Grian kneels down to his height and sets a hand on his shoulder, offering him a smile. “What do you think of Joe and Cleo, Techno?”

Techno doesn’t look up from the miniblock, but his eyebrows furrow. “Doc said Cleo’s a hybrid like me, right?”

“That’s correct. She’s a zombie hybrid, to be exact.”

“... I like her. She feels like she understands.”

“What do you mean by that?” Grian asks.

“I don’t know.” He pauses. “I like Joe, too. His words are funny.”

Oh, goodness. Grian knows Joe would keep his crusade against diamonds to himself around Techno if he asked, but that feels like it’s doing a disservice to both Joe and Techno. 

Before Grian can get too lost in his thoughts, Mumbo comes flying in through the roof and lands next to them, his expression sheepish. Grian’s attention turns towards him immediately, but Techno’s still staring down at the miniblock.

“Oh, no,” Grian says, “What did you do?”

Mumbo coughs out a laugh. “So, no sales at ODEA. But I did just have to stop Stress from buying a pass at my Industrial Day Pass Shop. I haven’t AFKed there in a while, so I didn’t want her to buy the day pass and find nothing in the chests.”

Huh. It seems they both have work to do, both outside the house and inside the house.

Which reminds him.

“I need to discuss something with you later tonight,” Grian says. He crouches and holds his arms out for Techno climb into. ”Techno, it’s time to head home. Put that miniblock in your inventory, please.”

Techno hesitates but puts the miniblock away and steps into Grian’s arms.

Once he’s fully secured, Grian feels confident enough to equip his rockets. “Why don’t you tell Mumbo about Joe and Cleo while we fly back?”

They take off into the skies as Techno begins rambling about his, Joe, and Cleo’s entire conversation, repeating their words almost verbatim while Mumbo listens and asks questions where need be.

It feels alarmingly close to a family.

* * *

“What do you mean Techno can’t read?”

“I mean he can’t read. Honestly, Mumbo, I thought you were smarter than this.”

The panic slides off Mumbo’s face long enough for him to shoot Grian a look that’s both amused and fond. Grian giggles.

It’s nighttime after Mumbo bumbled through his first bedtime reading with Techno. While pronunciation and enunciation weren’t a problem for him, Grian noticed quickly into their session that Mumbo tended to add tidbits of his own commentary, then spiral into a full ramble. Techno would, of course, respond to it with his own comments, and the cycle would continue. Grian would encourage this during any other time, but bedtime stories were for winding down to sleep, not discussing the merits of dog ownership.

Now, they’re seated on either side of Grian’s bed, winding down with cups of tea in hand.

“I don’t think I ever considered the possibility that he couldn’t,” Mumbo mumbles. “I just saw him reading your books and assumed.”

Grian nods to that. “Yeah, I did, too. Then the whole thing with Cleo reminded me that none of the books in my hobbit hole actually have words.”

Mumbo laughs at that. “Dude, how’d you plan your entire mansion without words?”

“I don’t know, it just sort of happened. I doubt any of your building plans have words in them either, Mister Actually-Uses-Maths.”

But instead of laughing harder at that like Grian expects, Mumbo falls silent, staring into his cup of tea as if it had any answers to give him. Grian would laugh if everything wasn’t so tense.

“If Techno doesn’t know how to read,” Mumbo starts, “then it stands to reason that he doesn’t know formal mathematical processes either. We can assume he comes from a hardcore world, after all. Not much time to learn when you’re in that situation.”

Grian finds himself staring into his own cup of tea, demanding answers out of the impartial liquid.

Much of what they know about Techno’s old world is through implications rather than direct anecdotes from Techno. From what Grian can tell, it’s best to keep it that way; forcing a child to relive hell by forcing a retelling out of him can’t lead to anything good. But what they do know is it’s a world full of distrust and betrayal and devoid of any form of love.

Love is shown through many different ways. Education is a form they haven’t thought about.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?” Mumbo asks.

Grian nods. It’s obvious. “You teach maths, I’ll teach reading. Should we alternate days or try having both lessons in one day?”

“I think we’ll have to see how receptive Techno is to the lessons to decide that.”

They discuss which topic to start teaching first, how to make teaching materials, how to ensure Techno’s understanding the material, for hours and hours. By the time their discussion wraps up, they’re left each having a general road map in their heads. But the moon is high up in the sky, and any remnants of the day are gone.

Mumbo sets his now-empty cup on the drawer and yawns. There’s bags underneath his eyes, and Grian hasn’t ever seen him look as tired as he does now. “I think it’d best I get going now. I don’t want to disturb you any longer.”

And whether it’s from a newfound comfort in their routine or his own exhaustion, Grian flops back against the bed and gives the unoccupied side a pat.

“Dude, just stay and sleep here,” Grian yawns, “it’s not like it matters.”

Mumbo stiffens at that. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m not opposed to it, but it is your bed—”

“I’m gonna go to sleep, and I don’t care if you’re there next to me when I wake up. I just don’t wanna get interrupted by one of your death messages on the communicator. Then I’ll have to go after you myself and kill you for interrupting my sleep.”

Their conversation comes to a close at that as sleep wades over Grian’s body. The last thing he sees before falling asleep is Mumbo pulling the covers over them and relaxing against the mattress.

They sleep together every night from then on. Grian’s not sure if this is his best decision or worst decision.

* * *

Too much maths in the morning isn’t good for anyone. Despite that, Techno seems eager to learn.

“Repeat these numbers back to me,” Mumbo says before sketching a series of digits onto a sheet of paper.

Techno, who sat curled up to Mumbo’s side, doesn’t have to strain to read the numbers. “One, three, two, three, one.”

Mumbo chokes up too much at that to confirm his responses. Grian clears his throat and says, “That’s all correct. Good job, Techno!”

Techno mumbles out a thanks, but he’s already taken the feather and quill from Mumbo’s hand and begun doodling on the same page.

“I think we’re all done with maths for the day, then,” Grian chuckles. “How about we take a little break for now and get to reading later?”

Techno doesn’t respond to that, his attention now focused solely on the pig face he’s drawing on the sheet of paper.

Mumbo turns to Grian, his eyes squinted and face scrunched as if he wants to cry. His voice comes out squeaky, high-pitched, almost overwhelmed. “That took two hours. And yet I still couldn’t be happier.”

Grian would laugh if he didn’t completely understand.

* * *

It takes two hours to make it through half the alphabet. But by the time they find a natural stopping point, Techno makes no flaws in his pronunciation and identification in the letters he learned.

Grian has mixed feelings about it.

Of course he’s proud of Techno. The pure elation and pride he feels when Techno scribbles down a series of letters and repeats carefully after him is ridiculous. But at the same time, it’s not as rewarding as seeing one of his builds slowly build from the ground up. It doesn’t give him the same satisfaction as placing the last block on a build.

Is he a bad person for that? Does that make him a bad parent? Staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom while Mumbo’s tucking Techno to sleep hasn’t given him any answers.

Mumbo had looked so proud, so happy when he was teaching. Why doesn’t Grian share that? Why can’t Grian feel that no matter how hard he wills himself to?

Maybe he is a bad parent. And maybe all of this is confirmation Techno really would be better off with someone else as a parent, someone who would put his achievements over some stupid building projects that wouldn’t matter in the end. Grian had already doomed Grumbot to a lifetime of false happiness; will Techno be the life he destroys next?

Grian’s throat tightens at that, and a sense of dread like no other knots in his stomach.

He can’t. He’d rather die before that happens. But he’s still so immature, still so selfish. He’s possibly the worst candidate for parent on this server, yet the universe decided to throw him a curveball anyway.

“Techno’s asleep.”

And just like that, Grian’s pulled out of his head and into reality, where Mumbo’s walking into the room with uncertainty written all over his face. His thoughts are still clouded and hazy, but that doesn’t stop him from asking, “What’s wrong?”

Mumbo hesitates at that before his shoulders relax and he lets out a soft chuckle. “You could just tell as soon as I walked in.”

Grian hums as Mumbo takes a seat on his usual side of the bed.

“I mean,” Mumbo says, “maybe it’s stupid of me to overthink so much, but… do you ever get the feeling you aren’t the one intended to be the parent? Like it’s just dumb luck that got you in this situation?”

_ Yes. A thousand times yes. _

But that’s not what comes out of his mouth. Instead, Grian looks up and says, “Sometimes. But you’re the best parent here for Techno. I can guarantee it.” He narrows his eyes when Mumbo opens his mouth to counter. “No, I’m not letting you say anything bad about yourself. You jumped into the role so readily at the beginning of this, and you fit it absolutely perfectly now. I saw how you looked when you were teaching Techno earlier today. You’re literally the best choice for him, for—”

_ Me. _ He cuts himself off before he can say that and instead quietly says, “Don’t doubt yourself, Mumbo. That’s a bad habit of yours.”

And Mumbo smiles so warmly, so genuinely that for a moment, Grian forgets the thoughts that were plaguing him. “You’re right about that, I guess. Thanks, Grian. I couldn’t do this without you.”

He can. It’s the doubt talking again.

Grian nods anyway and offers him his own smile.

* * *

As wonderful as the jungle’s aesthetics are, it’s no place for a kid to get exercise. Grian and Mumbo agree early on to take Techno out on frequent walks through the shopping district, both for fresh air and for socialization on everyone’s part.

Every day, they come across somebody new. It doesn’t take long for Techno to start greeting every hermit by name (albeit when they greet him first), and although he stays close to Grian and Mumbo, he’s more confident trailing further and further away with each passing visit, more curious about his surroundings.

(Though he does falter a bit when he stumbles on the path and scrapes his knee. To be fair, Grian and Mumbo falter at that, too. It’s a step back, but with a bandage and lots of reassurance, they’re back on track.)

And it just so happens that today’s conversationalists are Iskall, who’s out on his own walk.

“Hallo, you three,” Iskall greets, bending down to give Techno a fist bump. He stands back up to his full height when Techno takes off running after one of the villager heads in a minecart whizzing through the road. He chuckles at that. “That’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever come up with.”

“I’d wager it’s the only good idea you’ve come up with,” Mumbo snarks. He laughs, ducking when Iskall half-heartedly throws a hand in his direction.

Grian rolls his eyes at that but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Unfortunately, I’d have to agree with Mumbo there.”

“There’s no winning with you two, is there?” Iskall sighs. “What have you two been up to anyway?”

Grian takes that as an opportunity to talk about Techno’s growth, Mumbo occasionally stepping in to discuss Techno’s math progress. Iskall nods politely and asks questions where appropriate, but it’s twenty minutes into the conversation when he asks another unrelated question.

“What have you been up to?” Iskall asks. “You know, individually.”

Silence.

Iskall’s smile grows tight at that. “When’s the last time either of you had some time to work on your own projects?”

Grian falls silent at that, thinking. His mind draws a blank. When he looks over at Mumbo, it’s clear he can’t remember either.

“... I looked through my redstone box the other day,” Mumbo said sheepishly.

As if Iskall’s disappointed face isn’t enough, Bdubs has come strolling down the road with furrowed eyebrows. “Is that Techno chasing after the minecart I just saw?”

All three nod.

“Oh. Well, anyway, I heard some business about some hermits refusing to take care of themselves?” Bdubs said. He scoffed. “Classic tale! You people need to learn to rest.”

Grian frowned. “Well, it’s not really sleep we were talking about—”

“And it’s not sleep I’m talking about either. You know, for once.” Bdubs guffaws a laugh at that but the seriousness returns to his face almost immediately. “There’s other stuff you have to do, too. You can’t just ignore all your goals and passions for this long and expect the cards to not tumble over. You gotta make time for that stuff. Like, Iskall, how would you imagine life to be if you stopped working on your omega tree?”

Iskall shrugs. “A lot better.”

Bdubs falters at that for a split second while Grian and Mumbo laugh. “Iskall, you’re not helping me out very much here.”

“Oh, uh—” Iskall clears his throat. “I mean, it’d be so much worse! I wouldn’t know what to do with myself!”

“Exactly!”

Grian chuckles at that, but although Bdubs’s delivery is a bit scuffed, he knows he’s right. The hermit spirit is to put their all into everything they do, never sparing a glance back as they push past their goals. There are exceptions to this, but it’s their form of art: toiling away at a project for the moment they get to step back and look at what they’ve created.

Still, everyone knows their limits. They know they can count on the other hermits to push them back into place when they break past them too far.

Techno isn’t a project to be completed in a month; he’s a person who will eventually grow to be independent and might suffer if they never let go. This is the other hermits reminding them of that.

“Hey, what about this?” Iskall says. “Bdubs and I will look after Techno for a day while you two do whatever you need to do. How does that sound?”

Bdubs nods along eagerly, bright eyes shining even brighter in anticipation for their answer. If Grian wasn’t already used to it, he might’ve taken a step back.

Grian looks up to meet Mumbo’s concerned gaze.

Will Techno be receptive to that? He seems comfortable with Bdubs and Iskall, and Grian knows they can tone down their energy to match Techno’s if need be. But it all comes down to if Techno feels safe enough for that yet. The last thing Grian wants is for Techno to feel they’ve abandoned him.

“I’m okay with it if Techno agrees to it,” Grian says.

Mumbo nods at that. “Yeah. I think we’re on the same page in regards to that.”

Just then, Techno rounds the corner, still in pursuit of the minecart. The minecart zips past them, but Techno stays, panting and staring after the minecart like it’s prey. Maybe the minecart system is a bit  _ too _ entertaining.

“Techno,” Mumbo calls, “I understand you’re busy with the runaway, but can we discuss something?”

Techno’s gaze lingers on the minecart, but he stands next to Mumbo. With that, Mumbo gestures for someone else to explain.

Thankfully, Bdubs picks up the conversation before any awkward silence can emerge. He crouches down to Techno’s height with a smile. “Hey, Techno. I was just telling your dads about a little hangout Iskall and I were having at his base for the two of us. You know, just some good food and games for a day. Would you like to join us?”

Techno’s gaze immediately drifts towards Grian, but Grian keeps his face passive. It’s Techno’s choice who he wants to hang out with, after all. “Um…”

“We’d really love to have you there, but you’re allowed to say no.”

“I think…” Techno closes his hand around the cuff of Grian’s sweater, as if it gives him strength. “Yeah. I want to.”

“Wonderful! When do you think the hangout should be?”

Techno pauses to think. “Tomorrow after reading.”

“The afternoon,” Grian translates.

Bdubs shoots him one last kind smile before standing up. “Great! This hangout’s gonna be fantastic! See you there, okay?”

They exchange goodbyes before Bdubs and Iskall take off into the air, Bdubs scrambling in the air before catching sight of Iskall’s trail of sparkles and flying after him. Grian chuckles at that. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of watching people fumble mid-air.

And the three of them are left in the shopping district.

“Well,” Mumbo says, “I suppose we should continue our walk. Are you excited for your hangout, Techno?”

Techno’s silent, then he raises his head and walks with an extra pep in his step. There’s a ghost of a smile lingering on his face. “Yeah. I think I am.”

* * *

Grian’s not prepared for this. He thought he was, but it’s so overwhelmingly clear he’s not. To be fair, neither is Techno, but at least that was to be expected.

“Look how close we are to Iskall’s tree,” Mumbo says gently to Techno, who’s curled up in his arms and holding on for dear life. “We’ll be just a couple blocks away, and if you look closely, you might be able to say hi once in a while. It’ll be like we’re in a different room of the same house.”

“But you won’t be there,” Techno whimpers, and Grian can feel his heart crack in two.

“We’ll be in the same biome, just a bit further away than usual,” Grian says as they land in the Omega Tree. “You know how to talk to us using the communicator. Just say the word and we’ll come pick you up.” He offers him a smile, helping Mumbo set him on the floor. “But we want you to stick it out for a bit first, okay? We know you can do it.”

Techno’s shoulders relax at that, but his gaze still darts from side to side.

Grian crouches to his level and meets his eyes. “Hey, follow what I do, okay? Breathe in for ten seconds.”

Techno follows his breath.

“And breathe out.”

They breathe out together, laughing when Techno exaggerates his breath out into a huff. The tension in his body is gone, and although he’s fidgeting with his fingers, Grian thinks he’ll fare much better.

“Feel better?” Grian asks.

Techno nods just as two figures fly into the base and drop down on the floor next to them.

“Oh, that could’ve ended real bad,” Bdubs mutters as he stumbles. He sends a grateful nod to Iskall, who steadies him with an arm, before shooting a grin at Grian, Mumbo, and Techno. “Hey, you guys!”

“You ready for the hangout?” Iskall asks with a kind smile.

Techno nods again, and this time, there’s excitement brimming in his eyes. Grian swears he’s growing up too fast, but it’s only been a few months.

“Well, you know where to find us,” Grian sighs. He steps back to stand beside Mumbo, every step away burning his heart.

“Indeed we do.” Iskall raises his hand to wave. “Say goodbye to your dads, Techno. They’ll come back to pick you up soon.”

It’s when Techno turns to him and Mumbo and shoots them a soft, almost imperceptible smile and wave that Grian knows he’ll be okay.

But will Grian be okay?

His chest is still tight long after he and Mumbo leave the Omega Tree and land on the steps of the mansion. One look at the pained expression on Mumbo’s face tells him he feels the same. They sit in silence for a few minutes before Mumbo finally speaks.

“Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Grian chuckles at that. “Yeah.”

“How do you do it?” Mumbo asks. He elaborates when Grian tilts his head. “I mean, I take forever to meander my way through what I want to say. Even then, sometimes I don’t ever reach the end. How do you just… know exactly what to say to make a situation right?”

Huh. Grian knows he’s a succinct speaker, but he never quite thought of himself like that. In fact, his words have gotten himself into trouble more than anything. Yet Mumbo thinks he can make a situation right with just his words?

He can’t help but smile at that. But where’s the fun in being sappy?

“I don’t know, you did a pretty good job keeping that succinct yourself,” Grian says. He stands up from the steps, his heart still hurting and thoughts returning to Techno. Grinding for materials for the Barge should keep his mind off things. “I’m gonna restock the Barge. What’re you gonna do?”

Mumbo scratches his head sheepishly. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten what I was working on. I’ll probably make a potato farm in the industrial district, though. I think our fellow hermits are getting pretty sick of having to donate theirs every week.”

Grian huffs out a laugh. “Well, you’re right about that. You should get going then.”

“Right. Um…” Mumbo laughs at himself. “What am I doing? See you later today, Grian. Message me if you need anything, okay?”

“Got it.”

With that, Mumbo takes off into the skies, and Grian watches him fade into the distance.

It takes some time for Grian to will himself to stand up after that, but he does and brushes the concrete powder off his hands.

He needs to get going. Time to restock the Barge.

* * *

Iskall’s kind enough to have tea ready by the time Mumbo and Grian fly over to the Omega Tree.

“So,” Iskall says, his eyes glittering, “I have some things to tell you before bringing Techno into the room. Bdubs is still keeping him busy in the other room, but I don’t think Bdubs will make it that long, so I’ll make this quick.”

Uh…

Grian and Mumbo exchange a concerned glance at that, but Iskall’s already speaking before they can say much of anything.

“First of all, Techno did panic for a bit around an hour into the hangout. We solved it by—Mumbo, you remember that suit jacket you left at my base and I forgot to give back?”

It’s clear Mumbo doesn’t remember, but he nods anyway.

“We gave that to him to wear as a blanket. We had to wait a bit, but I think it really comforted him having a part of you there.”

Mumbo chokes up at that and coughs out a thanks at that. Grian pats him on the shoulder. That’ll be useful to know.

Iskall smiles. “Just thought that'd be good for you two to know. But anyway, we discovered something important today. Something  _ really _ important.”

“Well, spare us the theatrics,” Grian snorts, but he has to admit his feet are bouncing against the ground in anticipation. “What is it?”

Iskall falters for a moment, eyes flickering back to the table, then to the side, before finally looking up to meet their gazes. His smile is soft, warm, and the way he gazes at them is even gentler. “Grian, Mumbo, your son has PVP talent.”

PVP talent? It’s been a while since Grian’s even seen the battlefield. How can Iskall tell?

“He’s absolutely brimming with it! He beat me and Bdubs back into a corner with just a stick. Granted, we weren’t really trying to fight back and it was more play-fighting than anything, but he did it!”

“Wait, back up,” Grian says. “What happened?”

Iskall leans back in his chair to explain. “I noticed he was interested in one of the swords in the forge, but I thought he was a little too young for that, so I gave him a stick instead. It’s easier to teach old techniques with something as light as a stick, so I taught him how to hold an old sword. Then I gave him free reign to terrorize us with it. Bad idea in hindsight, but it was pretty funny.”

Techno has talent? Grian knows he’s smarter than average, but he hadn’t quite expected PVP to make it anywhere into the conversation. Then again, the Hermitcraft server is poorly optimized for PVP. It’s a relatively peaceful world. Talent is nice, but something else matters more.

“Did he seem to enjoy it?” Grian asks.

His question is answered when Bdubs comes barreling into the room with Techno not too far behind him, chasing with a stick in hand.

“Argh! You’ve defeated me!” Bdubs says, despite not having been touched by the stick at all. He flops down on the floor. “And I fall. Oh, how far the mighty have fallen.”

Techno giggles and pokes him with the stick. “Got you!”

He looks happy. He looks exhilarated to no end, and although he’s panting, he doesn’t seem exhausted in the slightest.

“Techno!” Mumbo calls.

Techno whips his head towards their direction. It doesn’t take long for him to recognize them and to run towards them, flopping into Mumbo’s awaiting arms. He’s still holding the stick when he plops himself down on Mumbo’s lap.

“Dad, look!” Techno says to Grian. He holds out the stick to him. “I got the Omega Sword of Doom!”

Mumbo shoots Iskall a look. Iskall shrugs.

“Oh, really?” Grian says. Techno’s excitement is contagious, he finds; he’s unable to keep the grin off his face. “Where’d you get it?”

“Uncle Iskall gave it to me.”

“Did you say thank you?”

Techno blinks at that, then whips his head around to Iskall at record speeds. “Oh! Thank you!”

Iskall laughs and waves a hand of dismissal as if he's not tearing up inside at being called an uncle. “It’s no problem. How’d you like today, Techno?”

“It was really fun. It was a little tough at first, but…” Techno swings at the air. “I fought two monsters today and won!”

“Woah! I’m so proud of you!” Grian says with a laugh. He raises a hand to pat Techno on the head, heart lurching when he leans into the contact.

“Do you wanna do this again sometime in the future?” Mumbo asks.

Techno nods and barely pokes him with the stick.

“How do you feel about having someone keep teaching you how to fight?”

Techno almost vibrates with excitement at that, nodding vigorously.

Iskall stops to think at that. “There’s a couple people on the server who still practice old techniques. I’m okay with old PVP techniques, but I imagine you’ll want somebody more specialized in them to teach.”

“Oh! I got it!” Bdubs says. He leaps off the floor, brushing the dirt off his clothes. “You might wanna give the place a good ol’ sweep, though, Iskall. It’s a bit dirty in here.”

“Dude, it’s a tree.”

Bdubs waves him off and moves to take a seat next to Iskall. “If you’re looking for some people who were really into old techniques, you might wanna ask Doc, Etho, and Beef. I don’t know that they’re the  _ best _ at it, but they’ve got all the techniques down.”

Right. Grian remembers hearing them reminisce about old techniques and equipment, but he never paid too much attention to it.

“Thank you for the recommendation,” Mumbo says. His gaze wanders down to Techno, who’s still swatting at the air with his stick. “I guess we’ll have to see how they feel about it.”

* * *

Doc, Etho, and Beef, as it turns out, are absolutely ecstatic. xB and Wels are, too, but they have the sense to not start knocking each other over for equipment.

After a century of flying, they’re on xB’s training grounds. There’s a few shulkers of gear on the ground (currently being rummaged through by Doc and Beef while Etho sneaks what he can) xB had brought with him. Various damaged swords and iron armour pieces are strewn about the ground. Techno’s staring wide-eyed at Wels, who doesn’t seem to know how to handle the attention and defaults to an awkward wave and smile.

Oh, jeez. Grian feels sorry for him.

“Don’t worry, he just thinks you’re cool,” Grian whispers to Wels. “You know, with the whole knight thing.”

Wels blinks at that, then his face brightens and he’s smiling harder than Grian’s ever seen him smile before. He looks oddly touched by that. But before he can say anything, he’s interrupted by a victory screech on Beef’s part.

“Aha!” Beef yells. He holds up an iron sword and iron chestplate with an intricate design carved into it. Is that really what they were fighting over? “I got it! Suck i—” He glances towards Techno’s direction. “You suck, Doc. Yeah. That’s what I was gonna say.”

Doc opens his mouth, presumably to make fun of Beef for that almost-screw-up, but Etho beats him to talking.

“Doc, you really let Beef get the good gear?” Etho shakes his head as he pulls his own chestplate over him. “You’re off your game today.”

“Oh, come on, man, I’m rusty,” Doc huffs. He pulls a chestplate out of the shulker box nonetheless.

“Now that they’re done arguing,” xB mutters. He clears his throat. “You might wanna know what usually happens during these types of things. We usually stretch or warm up before we get geared up, but today’s a special case.”

Mumbo hums at that, nudging a pair of iron boots thrown on the ground with his foot. “These take a lot of abuse, don’t they? Why iron?”

“You’re right about them taking a lot of hits when you’re training regularly with them,” Doc says, “so we can’t use something rare like diamonds.”

“Uh—”

“Okay, I know that was a stupid thing to say on this server, but that’s how it got started.”

“That and it makes matches go by a lot quicker. Nothing’s worse than a match that won’t end,” Etho says. He squints at the sword in his hands, then holds it up. “xB, this one’s new.”

xB takes the sword from him. “Huh. I don’t know how that got there.”

Grian frowns. If there’s a visible difference between old and new swords, he can’t spot it. “What’s the difference between them?”

“Feel it for yourself,” is the only warning xB gives him before tossing two swords at his feet, including the one Etho just passed to him.

Grian picks up the two swords and immediately feels it.

The old sword is so lightweight he barely feels the weight in his hand. Its handle is a bit thinner than the new sword’s and just a tad shorter. If he weren’t looking so closely, he might not have noticed it at all.

By the time he looks back up and hands the swords back to xB, Doc and Etho are already a good distance away from them, swords drawn. They’re lazily swinging at each other with no real intent to fight. Maybe this is a warmup?

“So normally, matches end when everyone but one person dies and respawns,” Beef says. He looks down at the grip of the sword in his hand. “We won’t get to that for a long time, though. That’s sorta intense.”

That’s good news. Even after their talk about respawning in the server, Grian doesn’t think frequent deaths are something Techno will be ready for in some time. That might extend to other people’s deaths in front of his eyes.

It seems Mumbo thinks so as well, because he says, “Maybe there’s no other way around it, but can there be just… no death between anyone? At least, not until later.”

Beef blinks at that but nods and looks at the two dueling in the background. “Hey, you guys! One heart duels!”

Doc sends Etho flying back with a swing of the sword, then raises his palm. Etho keeps his distance at that as the two rest.

“I imagine we’ll start with swords—no, that’s still a bit too much for a beginner.” Beef moves the sword to his other hand and stares at his palm. “Practicing grip’s pretty important for not developing any bad habits. We’ll start with a stick—is that too small? No, I don’t think so—and work on footwork and positioning, too. We’ll discuss when we think he’s ready for a sword. xB and Wels will be here sometimes to spar and teach when they can. I’m pretty sure Iskall said something about joining sparring when Techno’s ready, too.”

Wels opens his mouth, presumably to add onto what Beef says, but something else catches his attention before he can. “Etho! You were supposed to give Doc half of those ender pearls!”

Etho laughs as he empties his pockets of stacks and stacks of ender pearls. Doc stares, and Grian can practically feel the disappointment radiating off him. He can’t say he blames him.

But they’re silly. They’re silly and put fun above everything else, yet (from what Grian can tell by watching the duel now that Doc has ender pearls) they still take pride in what they do. It’s evident in the way they carry themselves and respect each other on the battlefield. Just watching now, Grian can see the rust they supposedly collected slowly melt away.

Silly, confident, comfortable. Those are exactly the type of people Grian can see Techno benefitting from being around.

Grian walks to Mumbo’s side and nudges him with an elbow while Beef, xB, and Wels are busy shaking their heads. When Mumbo turns to look at him, Grian smiles. “So? I think this is a good decision.”

Mumbo’s gaze drifts towards Techno, who’s sitting on the floor in awe, watching the two blades swing back and forth. His lips tug up into a fond smile of his own. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

* * *

They follow a routine from that day onwards. Mumbo’s earliest to rise and wakes up everyone in the household with breakfast. He has a daily math lesson with Techno that ranges from thirty minutes to hours long. Grian cooks lunch for the household, then reads with Techno for however long their lesson ends up. Once a week, they’ll drop off Techno at xB’s battlegrounds with plenty of snacks tucked in his pockets for training, greet and thank whoever shows up that day, then pick him up later after having a bit of spare time to themselves. After training, Techno will ramble about everything he learned that day while they fly back home and during dinner. Nights are quiet after dinner; Techno usually sleeps early while Grian and Mumbo talk to unwind from a long day. They take breaks sporadically throughout the day, of course.

Sometimes, though, another hermit will volunteer to babysit for a while, and Grian and Mumbo will have a day to themselves to catch up on their projects. It turns out every hermit has their own way of looking after Techno: Iskall play-fights and reads to him when he tires out; Ren takes him on (pre-mapped, as he would later tell them) adventures through his base; Hypno makes small talk and walks him through the building process; and Keralis used to spoil him with treats from Lookie Lookie at my Cookie prior to Techno complaining of a stomach ache. After that incident, Keralis reeled in his spoiling and now opts to read with him for hours. Almost every hermit has babysat Techno now.

But there are a few undeniable favorites Techno has. Joe still drones on about philosophy, but he goes slowly and stops to define words when Techno can’t understand (In fact, Grian would say Joe’s more responsible for Techno’s broader vocabulary than Grian is if that didn’t wound his ego so much). Cub takes to involving him in his work, going out of his way to create small jobs for him to complete under his supervision and thanking him when he completes them. Etho doesn’t engage quite as much; instead, he carries on his work and makes idle conversation, explaining something he’s doing if Techno asks.

Techno talks about them all favorably long after they arrive home, asking when their next hangout will be. Grian and Mumbo always answer, “Soon.”

And really, it usually is soon. Grian can’t contain his excitement over Techno breaking out of his shell more and more with each passing day.

But the days pass relentlessly. They turn into weeks, who turn into months, who turn into years. By the time Grian catches his breath, he and Mumbo are watching Techno emerge from a separate room wearing new resized clothes.

“How’s everything fit?” Cleo asks, leaning against a column in the mansion.

Techno flaps his arms and looks himself up and down. He pinches at the fabric before looking up. “It fits okay. Thank you.”

Mumbo barely suppresses a whimper. Grian can’t say he’s not in the same position.

“They grow up so fast,” Grian says, his voice breaking.

Mumbo nods, and Grian swears he can see a tear running down his face.

Cleo chuckles at that. “They really do. I’m gonna get going now, okay? Let me know if you need any more changes.”

The three say their goodbyes to Cleo, who throws her elytra on and flies out of the mansion. When they can no longer hear her rockets in the distance, Techno grumbles, “You’re so embarrassing. It’s just new clothes.”

Mumbo remains undeterred. “Can we hug you?”

“I mean… yeah, sure.” Techno steps forward into Mumbo and Grian’s arms, and Grian can’t help but note his head reaches Grian’s chest now. When Techno hugs them back, Grian maybe, perhaps allows a tear of his own to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scar, bdubs, grian: man i miss the town hall build trio :( i just think they were funky (and im not caught up on hermitcraft yet so i may be in for a treat maybe?)
> 
> stress and doc: man i just love the idea of them being science partners. contemplating writing a stress and doc lab partner au but for now this is all i can get shh
> 
> beef, ren, tfc: oh the storytellers. i love em! i wanted to include scar but at that point there were too many so. sorry :( i promise the stories are relevant later
> 
> cleo: cleo's a teacher i think (or so i have been told)! so i thought she'd be best at telling when a kid's looking at something, not truly reading it
> 
> pvp: i actually have no clue whos good at pvp or not. all of my answers came from poking hermitblr. they did give me some people who arent present for this pvp scene particularly though. don't worry--these people will be present later on. i have plans >:)
> 
> thanks for reading throughout this whole chapter holy shit :') hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> got big plans for this! hope you liked it <3


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